Bound by Love Alone
by Trinial
Summary: BW- A usually overlooked Beast Warrior feels a calling, and is held back because of only one person.


**Bound by Love Alone**

_Author's Note: I do realize that there is nothing in the series to back up this story. However, I enjoy looking beyond the scope of what is, and of what the original writers envisioned. So often the story is sacrificed for time, and the writer is only thinking of profit. It is the fans, who write stories like this one, who truly make the characters come alive. There is some angst, and some deeper thoughts and feelings in this one, put into a character that was given relatively no depth in the show, and therefore often overlooked. This story takes place in season three, shortly after "Feral Scream, part 2". Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Beast Wars: Transformers and all characters therein are owned by Hasbro, Mainframe_, _and any other esteemed and wealthy companies I might have missed. I write only for entertainment, and am making no profit from this work. Also, the Call of the Wild was written by Jack London, and I own nothing more than a copy of that excellent book._

I soar through the air, taking in the natural beauty of this primitive world. So lush, so new, so fresh, so full of life that I find myself caught up in the vibrant and hopeful air of the new morning. The world seems to look forward to each new day, and all the possibilities that it might bring. 

It is a pity that I am only a visitor, not a permanent member of this beautiful world. What's worse is the fact that I am not only a visitor, but a soldier; fighting a war on a world that is not mine, desecrating its glorious lands with the harsh sounds and horrid sights of battle. I feel that I am taking this planet's innocence with every second of my very existence. Not that I hate who or what I am, mind you, I simply hate that I look so out of place everywhere I go. The others can at least blend in- that's what these beast modes are for, right?

I feel my other half crying out for indulgence, and who am I to ignore it? 

I swoop down through the forest canopy, flare my wings, and make a perfect landing. I stretch my wings and inhale deeply before tucking them against my sides. Around me, the forest crawls with life. I push my nose to the ground and inhale once again, taking in all the scents at once, my beast mode having no problems distinguishing which scent belongs to what, or how old the scent is. 

With a few more deep breaths, I can determine that a squirrel ran past here and up the tree to my right, with a fox hot on its tail. The scent of blood is absent, so I can reasonably assume that the fox lost his meal.

I know this is supposed to be a patrol, but sometimes I can get away with indulgence. At least when it corresponds with my mission.

Suddenly, I hear it again. The Call. It is distant, but I can make it out clearly. It call's me, tugs at my beast instincts, and even pulls at my very spark. It tells me to come join It; to romp in the forest alongside it, to splash through the fresh mountain streams, and to run through the green glades, smelling the grass and poppies and the fresh, natural air. It calls out to me, and I feel so compelled to answer it.

I stand on all four legs, ears pricked forward, stock still, listening to the Call. Then I take a step in Its direction. Then two. Then three. Finally I stop, remember who and what I am, why I am here, and I shake off the pull of the Call. I spread my wings, and quickly leap into the air.

I've been hearing the Call for months now, on every patrol. And every patrol it gets stronger, especially in the mornings. I try to ignore it, I try to tell myself that I'm only hearing it because I allow myself to; that I could make it go away if I wanted.

The wolf howls again, and again I know that call. The truth is, I am at the mercy of the Call, or at least I will be, if the one thing holding me back goes away. I can't forget the Call, or even block it out. The only thing I can do is remember why I stay, and force myself to go back.

Sometimes, in the Base, when I am alone or on scanner duty, I allow myself to be afraid of going feral; of finally allowing myself to answer the Call.

We broke contact with the humans so long ago that only a fraction of their culture remains in our archives, but it is enough. They have one piece of literature, "The Call of the Wild", that deals with the very same problem I have. A perfectly good worker leaves all contact with civilization, and joins his brethren in the wilderness. 

I also see the problem in Cheetor, with his new Transmetal Two body. His transition was so rough, and his beast mode so wild, that at times I know that he is more cheetah than Maximal. It is a silly fear, but a fear nonetheless, and I must face it alone, for I would hate to see the reaction on the other's faces if they learned that I, one of their most trustworthy (and supposedly naïve) warriors, was on the verge of leaving them for such a seemingly pathetic purpose.

I finish my scout patrol, and make my final approach to the Base. I transform as I land, just in time to see the blast doors open and my one reason for staying walks out. My Beloved.

* * *

"Hey there, Bowser. What took ya so long?" Blackarachnia asked.

"Nothing important. I merely thought I heard something." Silverbolt replied. She gave him a sly look, then walked up to him and put a claw on his chest plate.

"Well, then, come on inside. There are a few things I'd like to hear from you." She said, putting a suggestive tone right where she knew would affect him the most. She knew it worked when he stood up that much straighter and put his arm around her.

With his right arm holding her tight, Silverbolt led Blackarachnia into the Maximal Base, pausing just long enough to give one last, longing look to the wild lands beyond the war zone of the Beast Wars.


End file.
